


One Out of Thirty

by Itscalledthedistrict



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Post-Canon, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Klance Week 2018, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-03
Updated: 2018-06-03
Packaged: 2019-05-17 13:43:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14833364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Itscalledthedistrict/pseuds/Itscalledthedistrict
Summary: There were the good dates, then there were the ones that would end with silent subway rides and cold walks home.Lance doesn't like the cold walks home.Written for Klance Week Day 2: Date Gone Wrong





	One Out of Thirty

The ride home on the subway was noisy. Kids were playing on their tablets with audio, mothers were gossiping, and the screeching of the tires never ceased. Lance, however, hadn’t said a word since he sat down. Keith was standing in front of him with an unreadable expression. His hand itched to hold the gloved one hanging from Keith’s side, but Lance resisted. Without knowing what Keith was thinking Lance had no clue how to help him. 

“Mommy, that man looks scary,” Lance heard a child say across from him. 

The mother glanced at Keith with sad eyes. Lance watched as she said something to the child then pull her closer. 

The walk to their apartment was cold. Lance kept his hands in the jacket Keith gave him the first year they were together. Keith had his nose and mouth covered by the scarf his mother made last Christmas. Lance didn’t understand why Keith was so attached to that scarf - his mother was terrible at knitting. When asked about it Keith would just shrug. He never offered any more explanation. 

When they walked into their apartment, Lance took off his winter clothes and watched as Keith did the same. Hat, scarf, jacket, gloves? No, not the gloves, meaning Keith was feeling aggressive and would most likely want to use the punching bag for a while. While he did that Lance figured he’d make some tea, find something on TV, and wait. 

Days are sometimes like this. War has that effect on some people, Lance presumes. For the thousandth time, Lance wishes he could take Keith’s hurting away. He wishes he knew everything that had the possibility of making Keith upset. It’s hard, really, Lance doesn’t even think he knows all of his own triggers. Fireworks are always a no. Crowds can be very iffy. Someone has a deathwish if they want to jump scare him. With Keith it’s a little different. Unlike with Hunk or Pidge, Lance didn’t spend all of his time with Keith in space. Keith was off with the Blade for long periods of time undergoing much more rigorous training. There are reasons Keith doesn’t go in the water, nor does well in a confined space. 

_ God _ sometimes people are jerks. 

Keith returns to their living room sweaty and tired. He sits down next to Lance slowly before laying down across his lap. Lance brushes the hair from his eyes and uses the other hand to hold a smaller, bruised one. 

“I’m sorry,” he says softly, “My sister said that was a good date spot. I didn’t know it would be like that.” 

Keith shook his head and rolled onto his back. “It’s not your fault,” he replied in an equally soft voice, “if I weren’t so-” 

“No, don’t start down this path Keith. I love you, you’re alive, and you are not leaving me. We just won’t go back there.” 

Keith nods and shuts his eyes. Lance stroked his hair and hummed softly.

One bad date out of thirty. Considering the hell they’ve been through, Lance was okay with those odds.   

**Author's Note:**

> Shortest thing I've ever written... Well, I hope you enjoyed!


End file.
